


Leave the Glasses On

by firethesound



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy in Glasses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco doesn't quite understand the <i>thing</i> Harry has for his glasses, but he's more than willing to go along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Glasses On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gracerene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/gifts).



> This was written almost ::cough:: two years ago and I just realized I'd never posted it to AO3. Happy birthday (again?) Grace!
> 
> This story also has a pretty fantastic remix by NathalieWeasley from Harry's POV. Read it [HERE!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786658)

Draco takes care to set the scene. The lights turned down low, the curtains drawn. A fire burning steadily in the fireplace to keep the chill at bay. Papers spread over his desk, books stacked high at his elbow. And himself, settled comfortably in the big leather chair.

He takes care to dress for the part he wishes to play. Hair rumpled and hanging loose over his forehead. Tired slouch to his posture. Tie loosened, top button of his crisp white shirt undone. His sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, the curved snake of his Mark casually on display. His fingertips are smudged with ink. He really is working, this isn’t all just for show. But Draco’s always believed in multi-tasking when he’s able.

Footsteps creak overhead, and Draco reaches for his glasses. Merlin knows why Harry likes them as much as he does, but Draco certainly doesn’t mind. He doesn’t need them for the work he's doing now, really only wears them when he needs a book with criminally tiny print for his research. But they do have other uses, it turns out.

He has them settled on his nose and a book open in front of him by the time the door opens.

“Malfoy, are you going to be much longer?” Harry asks, poking his head into the room.

“Hm?” Draco says, looking up and blinking. He peers at Harry over the top of his glasses, and sees Harry’s eyes go intent. Draco bites back a smile.

He knows the picture he makes. The firelight playing warm over his pale skin. His prissy clothes loosened and a bit rumpled after a long day of work. And Harry’s never able to resist Draco looking at him over the tops of his glasses like that.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Harry says, crossing the room and circling round the corner of Draco’s desk. “I was wondering if you were coming to bed soon.”

Draco sets his book aside, then laces his fingers together and stretches his arms up over his head, arches his back and watches the way Harry’s eyes trace the way his shirt pulls taut across his ribs and belly.

It’s a tight squeeze to fit both of them in the chair, but they know from past experience that it’ll work. Harry tucks his knees between Draco and the chair’s arms, and settles down onto his lap, the weight of him warm and welcome. Draco slides his hands around to cup Harry’s backside.

“Although, after further consideration, I think bed can wait,” Harry says, brushing a lock of hair from Draco’s forehead.

Draco catches Harry’s hand in his own and presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers.

Sometimes he feels a bit guilty for this. For playing off the predictability of Harry’s reactions, for toying with him like this. Most of the time he tells himself that Harry knew full-well what Draco’s like when he took up with him. You can take the boy out of Slytherin, but you can’t take the manipulative bastard out of the boy, yeah? And anyhow, Draco prefers to look at it as using his powers for good. Harry gets exactly what he wants, Draco gets the thrill of giving it to him, and then they both get fantastic sex. It’s win-win-win.

Draco reaches up to remove his glasses, and Harry stops him with fingers curled warm and tight around the delicate bones of his wrist.

“No,” he says, his voice gone low and breathy in that way that makes Draco’s heart pound. He wonders if Harry can feel the leaping pulse in his wrist, hopes he can because he wants Harry to know what he does to him, even if Draco can never bring himself to say the words aloud. “Leave the glasses on.”

Merlin, he loves this man. Loves his intensity, loves his enthusiasm, loves the unreserved, uninhibited, unrestrained way he loves Draco back. He loves every predictably Potter-ish inch of him. “Well,” he says, tilting his chin up at the perfect angle for a kiss. “If you insist.”

And Harry kisses him. Exactly as Draco knew he would.


End file.
